


take a sip, take a drink, its all gonna be alright (eventually)

by pumpkinpickles



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Emotional Baggage, Gen, Internal Conflict, Talking, but they get by, kravitz doesnt know how to deal w lucretia and neither does she
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-25
Updated: 2019-04-25
Packaged: 2020-01-31 17:58:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18596500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pumpkinpickles/pseuds/pumpkinpickles
Summary: Kravitz cannot read the threads of fate like Istus can, nor can he predict the end of a mortal’s life with the damning accuracy of his Queen. Neither is he omnipotent or a seer by any means, but he is a reaper.The right thing, would be to hear a possibly dying soul’s last words.





	take a sip, take a drink, its all gonna be alright (eventually)

**Author's Note:**

> ive read a lot of taz fics regarding taako and lucretia but question: how does kravitz feel about her. idk either so i wrote a quick thing kinda exploring that ? :"))
> 
> ive...never written for taz before pls be nice. theyre all very complicated characters so i hope ive done them justice ! 
> 
> i hope you'll enjoy !

* * *

 

 

Kravitz was kind of, definitely, hopelessly, lost.

Shuffling through another empty corridor, he looks down towards the main living area of the beach house. Nope. Empty, save for a few napping dogs.

He’d been told by said dogs’ owners that Taako had headed inside, to grab something - homebrewed fruit liqueur. Which Kravitz knew about, because that was all Taako had been raving about recently, due to the lack of _variety_ in the market. And also because Taako had tasked him to bring the remaining two experimental jars, which he currently had in his hands.

Kravitz meanders slowly along the second floor, worriedly shifting the heavy jars in his arms into a more manageable position. He’d hate to drop Taako’s weeks of hard work.

Logically, Kravitz knows the smart thing to do would be to find a fridge to stick the jars into, then his boyfriend. But the _right_ thing to do would be to find his boyfriend, let him taste the contents, get a kiss of approval for a job well done, _then_ allow Taako to walk him to the kitchen where he’d whip up something mean with the liqueur for everyone, and maybe score another kiss or two.

Still. Kind of hard to do the right thing when he was stuck at step one. Kravitz is not terrible at directions, but Merle’s beach house was an evolving mess of greenery and the never ending clutter of his weekend guests. Kravitz is pretty sure Merle’d stopped cleaning most areas because everyone was bound to trash them during the next gathering anyway.

Better to let the oafs who created the mess do their morning guilty clean up before they left, apparently. Although that only really worked with about half their company.

Ahead, towards the end of the corridor, a door is cracked open, a soft silver of light cutting across the dimly lit path. If Kravitz’s memory serves right, that was the kitchen. Perhaps Taako was already there, checking on his other liqueurs?

The noise that emanates from outside indicate that at least the majority of the party was not.

“Love?” Kravitz calls tentatively, nudging the door open with a foot.

Across the room, a startled pair of baby blue eyes meet his.

Spine immediately stiffening, Kravitz dips his head shortly in a curt greeting. “I-.” Sucks in a breath, righting himself. “I apologise. I thought perhaps Taako - I did not think anyone was in here.”

Lucretia shakes her head, looking just as awkward. “Oh, no. It’s alright.”

“Right.” Kravitz replies, readying himself to take the half a step needed to leave. “I’ll -.”

“Were you looking for Taako?”

The question prompts Kravitz to pause, look back up at Lucretia.

“Yes.”

Lucretia turns her head back out towards the outside, angling her head downwards.

A dawning understanding sinks in Kravitz as he makes his way across the dining-cum-living area to the small balcony overlooking the rest of the party below. The twins had practically designed this area, so Kravitz was never too surprised at the extra flair and room it had gotten. They always enjoyed having the others nearby as they cooked, even if they did force everyone to follow the strict invisible lines drawn between the cooking and the living area.

Kravitz supposes it all worked out in retrospect, since this room _had_ become where everyone would always end up migrating near the beginning and end of every party.

Stopping just shy of beside Lucretia, Kravitz barely has to crane his neck to look over the scene downstairs to spot the colourful flair of Taako’s hat, newly decked with fairy lights. Despite his company, Kravitz finds himself smiling foolishly at the way Taako is slinging himself over Lup, pulling a face at Magnus.

From this high up, Kravitz can’t hear what they’re saying, but he can tell Taako is having fun, and that’s all that counts.

Slight movement towards his right clues him in that he is not alone, and what he came to do in the first place. Glancing at Lucretia out of the corner of his eye, Kravitz notices her gaze following where his was just. Lips imperceptibly pulled into a smile, marred only by the melancholy of her eyes that sets even into the wrinkles lining her face.

There are laughter lines, but there are just as many out of stress, of sadness, of an unending loneliness that cuts rifts into her gentle gaze.

Kravitz has never looked at Lucretia this closely before. Has never had a chance to, nor the want.

He knows of the Bird, of course he does. There isn’t a person in the planar system who doesn’t. But for all the tales and heroics, he also knows of Lup’s strained smiles, Barry’s tight lipped silence, of Taako’s downward flick of ear, dismissive turn of phrase.

Of Taako’s night terrors and screams and _who are you, come back, don’t go,_ a ragged list of names that run on and on and on until Kravitz’s arms wound tight around his waist anchor him home.

Of Lup’s quiet insistence to become a family again, because ‘ _so much time has already been lost, ‘ko, and i - i just want everyone again. I just want us all happy and together. I miss_ **_us_ ** _.’,_ of Taako’s bitter shake of head, of the twins’ tight, quiet embrace as Lup wept and Taako pretended not to.

Suffice to say, Kravitz holds very, very complicated feelings for his current company.

“Such noise.” Lucretia murmurs, breaking the silence between them, fondness evident in her tone, in her posture that leans in towards the life erupting in cheers below. Kravitz offers a non committal hum.

Logically, Kravitz knows the smart thing to do would be to leave now. He knows where Taako is, and the liqueur in his hands are getting - well, not warm, but kind of uncomfortable to keep holding. But the right thing, he thinks, would be to stay and listen.

Kravitz cannot read the threads of fate like Istus can, nor can he predict the end of a mortal’s life with the damning accuracy of his Queen. Neither is he omnipotent or a seer by any means, but he is a reaper; the first of the Raven Queen’s retinue and has seen many a life hanging by a thread - stretched thin and _tired._

Lucretia’s hands are demurely laid flat on the balcony railing, overlapping over the glass base of her wine glass, and they shake, unconsciously, perhaps. Lips curled in a smile that edges on the bitterness of bittersweet, eyes glazed with the quiet resolution of one who has seen an ending and let it pass for obligation, not want.

The right thing, would be to hear a possibly dying soul’s last words.

There’s a less than subtle cough, and Kravitz turns to look at Lucretia. She’s now looking at him too. Her smile is still there, but it is more hesitant.

Then she takes a stuttering breath, eyes meeting his, sharp and soft and loving and formal all at the same time; an amalgamation of feelings, of years and years and _years_ and Kravitz is sharply reminded that she is Lucretia, a woman who loves and cherishes and for that gained a hundred years of her life, was cheated thirty years of.

Sharply recalls the gentle blue loops of ink over the margins of a very, very worn out copy of _The Seven Habits of Highly Effective Elves,_ conversations had with bright orange and sleek purple ink, addendums over scribbled salad and parfait recipes; Taako’s fingers loosely tracing over the sunken blue, a glazed, inscrutable expression painted over his normally open features.

This is not the lonely journal keeper of the Seven Birds, or even Madame Director of the Bureau before him now; not with her gentle blue smile and elegant soft gaze, unbroken, untarnished by the truth that tumbles from her lips, a hidden looping laugh that holds no sadness of unfairly brought carnage and age.

“I’m glad he’s happy.”

This is Lucretia, a hundred and twenty years young and Taako Taaco’s little sister, donning the IPRE uniform for the last time, backlit by a singing fish, by the bright aquas of sorrow and indisputable foolishness that damned them all.

Backlit by the soft, ever growing, ever remaining undercurrents of - love.

Kravitz knows the stories, the tales and the drafts of it all; knows of death and dying and how the punishment of living can be worse than even the end; knows the want to protect and keep safe and the desperation that can drown even the sturdiest of hearts.

He used to not, and then he met Taako.

“He is.”

And even to his own surprise, his voice comes out soft as the wind, short as it is.

What she had done was not fair. What had happened to her was not fair. What will happen is not fair, either.

Kravitz used to feel too little, and now he feels too much.

Some days it is unbearable, the understandings that come hand in hand with his newfound emotions - a spectrum that drives his newborn heart into such turmoil it physically aches.

But today is not one of those days. Taako is happy and content and Kravitz watches him, heart a steady pulse.

Dearly beloved, Taako will continue to be, jubilant and laughing and brighter than any star, and Kravitz thinks he deserves it all. Taako deserves more than it all.

Carefully, Kravitz lowers a jar down beside Lucretia’s glass. She stares at it, clearly confused.

“Nectarine liqueur. Taako made it.” Kravitz explains. Lucretia immediately understands the connotations, and pushes it back towards him.

“I can’t - I couldn’t - I’m sure he meant to share it - .”

“He thinks the fruit too tart.” Kravitz continues, taking his half a step back now, finally. “He never buys it, if he can. But sometimes he adds them to our salads, or dessert.”

Lucretia’s face crumples just the slightest. But she quickly pulls it together, breathes a very hoarse, “Oh.”

“Oh indeed.” Kravitz agrees.

Without another word, he turns and leaves the room.

Taako was definitely, definitely going to get on his case about the missing jar. And Kravitz would tell him the truth.

Perhaps not the smartest thing to do, but he remembers the gentle, looping ink Taako falls asleep tracing, the fruit Taako’d pick out of his servings and shovel to Kravitz yet never leave out of the recipe, the way there is always one last name that falls off Taako’s tongue in the midst of his nightmares and thinks, with a palm pressed against his chest, closing his eyes and breathing to the unwavering beat Taako has taught him to appreciate, to love - this is right.

This is right.

**Author's Note:**

> Long after Kravitz has left, Lucretia remains staring at the jar. Slowly, with a learned hesitancy, she unlocks the mason jar, takes a sip.
> 
> Pauses. Places it down. Takes in a heaving breath, feels the rush of her blood, the racing of her heart.
> 
> With hands that shake no longer, Lucretia brings the jar to her lips for another drink.
> 
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .
> 
> find me on tumblr @madokasoratsugu !  
> id love to talk about this fic or even taz w yall :"))


End file.
